


his&HERS

by madisonlawson



Category: Scream (Movies), Scream (TV)
Genre: Demons, Depression, Gen, Headaches, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, PTSD, Sad, Tornado, Trauma, headache, scream, sidney - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madisonlawson/pseuds/madisonlawson
Summary: ||Disclaimer: This work of fiction was originally featured on aknscRea.tumblr.com. his&HERS: the album,Comes out Halloween 2016, on aknscRea.bandcamp.com.||





	1. Chapter 1

It was a Friday. Which Friday doesn’t matter. Any Friday. All Fridays. Every Friday.

Every day.

Pounding. That’s what I remember before anything else. The pounding in my head. It was like all my memories, all my desires, all my relationships I had stored away, were thrashing around in my head, fighting to get free.

I needed someone to talk them down.

I need peace.

Please. I called. I cried. I reached out. Help.

Nothing.

Help. Help. Help. Please.

My emotions were liquor. I had too much and I couldn’t stop.

I drank the emotions, sucked them down until the thrashing calmed.

Drink. More. Keep drinking until the voices silence.

The still air numbs my skin, my fingertips feel nothing as I reach for something, anything, to hold onto.

I tried after that. Work. Family. Lover. Nothing worked.

Hopeless. Worthless. Nothing.

It was suffocating. I was suffocating.

I was alone again.

They left me. No matter what I did, what I said, I would always be alone.

No one was there. I wasn’t even there.

Just the pounding.

That’s all I am. The pounding.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s too much. I’m alone. I’m done.”

I’m done.

Goodnight.

The world is loud. My mind is louder. The pounding silences them all.


	2. Chapter 2

Therapy. Doctors. Endless conversations. Even a hypnotist once.

“You’re in shock.” “You’ve experienced great tragedy and loss.” “Trauma plagues you every day.” “You need help.” “What you’ve experienced follows you every day.” “You’re demons will never leave you.” “Broken, you’re broken.”

Broken. Broken. Broken.

I don’t remember what it’s like to have a normal beating heart. Most people don’t think about it. The way your heart thumps in your chest. Most normal people don’t realize every pump of blood being surged through your body.

I do. I feel it every time. Every punch my heart throws against my chest. I feel it. All of them. The punches reverberate through my body. They shake me, throwing me off balance. My fingers tremble when I try to sleep at night. My thoughts pulse with my heart, causing my head to throb. I push at the sides of my head, trying to steady the millions of thoughts bouncing around. My breathing shortens. I suck in and never get enough air.

Air. A necessity. Breathe in. Breathe out. Live.

Live.

It hurts. The breathing. The beating of the heart. The thoughts. It all hurts. It’s painful. I want the pain to stop. I need the pain to stop.

The demons follow me around like a shadow. I hope that one day the sun will lower in the sky and the demons will scatter. But every time the sun starts to lower, the shadows just grow. The demons get stronger. They surround me. They descend on me. Cover me from head to toe. They climb in my body, shutting off my breathing as they force their way in my mouth. I suck for that air I’d come to despise so much but receive nothing. The demons claw at my skin, tug at my thoughts and remind me what I’ve done. What’s happened to me. Who I am.

“You’re nothing more than your trauma and you never will be.” “You’re broken.”

My demons whisper these thoughts every night. They chant them like a prayer. And I listen.

I repeat the chants.

The whispers start to come from a familiar voice. My voice. I whisper with my demons at night as I fall asleep. I am the whispers. I’ve become one with my demons. The voice is mine.

I am my own demons.

I am broken.

Sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an open letter from the author, Madison Lawson.   
> Don't forget to subscribe to aknscrea.tumblr.com and like "Scream Hero" on fb for more information about the future of this project.

I guess you could say I’ve had an easy life. On paper, everything has gone in my favor. From my family to my finances to my health, I’ve been mostly dealt a good hand. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had struggles, pain, and disbeliefs.

I’ve had relationship problems and bad self-image. I’ve fought with my on-paper ‘perfect’ family and I’ve had painful breakups with both friends and more-than. I’ve been told my writing is sub-par and I need to find a ‘real’ job. I’ve had to take medicine for mental health problems and I’ve had doctors and coaches watch what food I do (or more accurately, don’t) put in my body. I’ve fallen asleep in tears and woken up not wanting to get out of bed.

I’ve also laughed until my abs hurt. My work has been published and my friends have been there for me when I wasn’t there for them. My family nights are my favorite nights of the week and my moments of silence in the Lord’s presence keep me going.

So on paper and off I’ve had both a good life and struggles.

It’s all lead up to where I am now. I spend my days working and writing. I read until I can’t keep my eyes open at night and I submit work after work to publishers and journals. And I’m working on one of the largest projects I’ve ever worked on with one of my best friends I only know thanks to a lovely band called ‘Pvris’.

“Scream Hero” is a lot of things but to me it’s something simple. Scream Hero is the desire to do good and to help those who feel helpless. Call it cliché but call it as it is. An attempt to mend our breaking world.

And this attempt is not just Scotty, Buffy, and Kingsley. It’s everyone who’s read my words, seen Kingsley’s art or heard Scotty’s audio spray-paint. It’s everyone who has fallen asleep crying, hated what they saw in a mirror, and been told they aren’t good enough. It’s the outsiders, the broken, the minority. It’s the skin colors that changes lives and the identities that break hearts. It’s the unstable and the broken.

It’s you.

No matter the hand of cards you’ve been dealt, you have a chance to do better, do good, and be happy.

You are worth it.

You are beautiful.

You have the power to change the world.

You are Scream Hero.

 


End file.
